Unexpected Charge
by Eloeehez
Summary: Tag 02x07 In an effort to flip Sam, the Baltimore Detectives showed him Dean's rap sheet. There were charges typical for any Hunter, and one which took him by surprise.


**A/N:** This started as a crack bunny and evolved into something somewhat more...serious I suppose you could say. Many, MANY thanks to MashFan who spent quite a bit of time and effort discussing plot and being an awesome beta. I also would like to extend appreciation to Matthew72 and TheHatMeister for being open to discussing the male view on certain matters.

* * *

~*~*~ **UNEXPECTED CHARGE** ~*~*~

Conning their way into the Baltimore Police Department impound lot had turned out to be embarrassingly easy. Sam had managed to duck into the lot while Dean kept an eye on the guard as he had snagged a couple of their fake IDs from the car. When they had approached the gate, all they'd had to do was flash their badges and say they were sent to move the escaped prisoners' vehicle to a federal impound lot and the guard let them in. He hadn't even questioned why they'd left their _borrowed_ tow truck running, or why agents were picking it up. The man had been rather oblivious to everything but his magazine. Porn could do that to a guy.

Once they were at least a hundred miles outside of Maryland, they finally started to relax. As much as they could, anyway, wanted fugitives and all, but they could take a breath. With any luck, they would be at the bottom of the pile of wanted men.

Another hundred miles passed before Dean really took notice of Sam's staring, though. He had been doing it almost since they had left the state. Clearly, there was something on his mind but Dean wasn't sure he wanted to ask. Starting these conversations often initiated the sort of sappy commentary Sam liked.

"What?" Dean snapped anyway.

"They showed me your rap sheet, you know," Sam finally said, eyes drilling into the side of Dean's head like the words were supposed to mean something to him.

"So? I'm sure yours would look the same if you hadn't gone off to Stanford."

"No, I'm pretty sure it wouldn't." Sam's face had an incredulous yet hurt look on it, one which was edging towards kicked puppy rather than bitchface. The expression worried Dean and he wracked his brain, trying to think of what he was implying.

"Oh, come on. You're not gonna try to lecture me about staying under the radar, are you? 'Cause, dude, you're not Dad and I don't wanna hear it." Sure, he'd been careless on a few occasions. He was aware of that and was trying to do better, especially now that Sam was back in the picture.

"I'm won't and that's not what I'm talking about, anyway." Sam glared out the window for a moment, looking uncomfortable and anxious. Dean was regretting inviting this conversation. "I expected the usual hunter stuff. But that one charge..."

Shit. He _knew_ what Sam was referring to and he did _not_ want to have this conversation. Not exactly his finest moment, and he had hoped it wouldn't show up on his record. If he knew his brother, Sam was already coming up with all sorts of scenarios, each one worse than the last. He fought to keep his face blank as he looked over at Sam before snapping his eyes back to the road.

In the brief glance, he'd seen the open anxiety gracing Sam's face as he searched Dean for any clues. "Prostitution?" he asked.

Sam's eyes begged Dean to tell him it wasn't somehow because of him. They also swam with fear, clearly saying he dreaded hearing about any of this. Dean grit his teeth, aware this conversation could lead to embarrassing revelations.

"It was a misunderstanding," snapped Dean with more force than he'd intended.

"All those times you've said you don't pay for it. I should have asked…" he trailed off, scrubbing a hand over his face before fisting it in his hair with a grimace. "I should have asked if you had ever _been_ paid."

"It's not like I meant to do it," Dean started but, if anything, Sam looked even more horrified and Dean had to backtrack quickly. "God, it's not like someone died! I just, you know, picked up a girl in a bar like usual. Then she paid me."

"Okay, so you picked up a girl and got paid," Sam reiterated, disbelief coloring his voice. "You also got arrested, you idiot!"

"Things like that happen when you're set up!" The muscles in his jaw jumped as he tried to keep his cool. This conversation was spiraling out of control fast and if he didn't resolve it, there would be a chick flick moment soon. "Like I said. Had sex. Made some money. No big deal." Dean shrugged it off.

"Just that one time?"

Abruptly Dean pulled off the road, throwing the car in park before turning to face Sam. They were going to have this conversation and be done with it.

"What are you so worked up about? Are you that much of a prude?"

"We're _fugitives_ Dean. We can't afford to take any stupid risks! And that's as stupid as it gets!"

"What? You think I'm gonna proposition a cop or something? I'm not that oblivious, dude!" Dean did his best to look affronted at the suggestion.

"Your record says otherwise." Sam looked smug and concerned at the same time.

"She wasn't a cop and I'll have you know I can spot the cop in a room faster than you."

"Except you're a sucker for any pretty girl who walks in the door." Frustrated bitchface now graced Sam's features.

"What do you want me to do?" He spread his arms wide in an exaggerated shrug. "Be celibate?"

"You? Celibate? Yeah, right," Sam scoffed. He took a deep breath before continuing. "Just promise you're not going to keep doing it."

"Fine! I won't go looking to get paid when we run out of cash," Dean groused snappishly, turning back to the wheel. "But you know, some of them pay me because I'm just that good, Sammy."

"Dude, you're a freak," disgust graced Sam's features as Dean eased the car back onto the road.

"Yeah, I am and the ladies still love me," he drawled smugly.

"Apparently not that one, since she turned you in. Let me guess, you couldn't get it up?"

"Oh, come on, that's low! You want to know how it really went down?"

"Sure," Sam drawled, looking like he would rather laugh now that he was past worrying whether his brothers sex life would lead to jail. "Enlighten me. And I mean the real story, not whatever overblown fantasy you've concocted."

"Oh, just for that, this whole topic is going under the porn rule."

"What the hell is 'the porn rule'?" Sam asked with air quotes and everything.

"Things dudes don't talk about with other dudes. Come on, you can't be that sheltered."

"Except you always ignore this so called porn rule. For how much you _do_ overshare your sex life, you seem pretty damn intent on keeping this one quiet."

"Shut up."

"Wow. It must be really embarrassing then."

"Conversation over. The end." Dean tried to make the statement an absolute, but Sam seemed far too engaged now for a different reason; his own amusement at his brother's expense.

"If she didn't turn you in, who did?" Sam wasn't taking the hint.

"Some old lady staying in the room next door. Called the cops because she thought I was underage."

Sam laughed but said, "Underage? That's it? With all your work-up, you would think the cops busted in on you with your pants down or something."

Unfortunately , Dean couldn't hide the flush in his cheeks and the car wasn't dark enough to conceal it.

"Wait. The cops really did bust in on you with your pants down, didn't they? Oh, man, that's even better!" Sam's laughter followed them down the rest of the country road.


End file.
